


That's My Girl

by SammysDove_CrowleysKitten



Series: One-Shots and Such [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby is totally a Winchester ;), Because I adore Bobby and he's totally awesome, Demons and such - Freeform, F/M, Human!Impala - Freeform, I put original winchester character as a character tag because come on, My first time trying to fill a request, Oh! and Bobby :), and she's a badass, hope I did the request justice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 15:25:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9614000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammysDove_CrowleysKitten/pseuds/SammysDove_CrowleysKitten
Summary: Request: Human!Impala meets JohnJohn finds his car 'where' he left her, just not exactly 'how' he left her... But even as a hunter it's a little hard to believe a car could become a woman.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Lovelies,
> 
> Soooooo, I'm about 99.9% sure (because I have a terrible memory lol) that this is my first attempt at fulfilling a request.
> 
> The request was by Violet+Barnes, hope I did the request justice, Dearie :) I felt like John would be a bit skeptical of a human impala lol but I still tried to fit in a few Winchester-esque lines of humor.

* * *

 

“Dammit, John, what the hell were you thinkin’! You could’ve been killed.” Bobby seethed in anger.

 

“Calm down, Bobby, we’re fine. The wraith is dead and so is his two demons, but we’ve still gotta hunt the vamp. Saving people comes before we do, you know that.”

 

“Would you shut the hell up.” Bobby sassed, adjusting the strap of the shotgun on his shoulder. “You at least owe me a damn drink.”

 

“After we get the vamp.”

 

“Ow, you son of a bitch!” The men stopped at stared blankly at each other when a woman’s voice rang out through what should’ve been abandoned woods. John pulled his gun from his waistband and jogged into view of the nearby clearing to find a young girl standing over a headless body. Her raven black hair was tied in a loose bun and she brushed a rogue strand behind her ear, reaching up to feel her neck, obviously checking for blood. “I can do this huntin’ stuff.” She smirked to herself, dusting a spot of dirt from her bare thighs that were exposed from her shorts.

 

“Should we say somethin’?” Bobby asked, in open-mouthed astonishment at the young girl’s fighting skills.

 

“No, she’s fine.”

 

“Miss?” Bobby called, loud enough for the young woman to hear and her eyes instantly trained on him.

 

“Dammit, Bobby.” John growled.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

You let your eyelids flutter open just enough to see a little light. Your head thundered and you groaned when you rolled onto your stomach. It was strange, but you could actually feel the cool dampness of the dirt under your hands. Out of curiosity, you dug your nails into the soft earth and pulled back, holding a palmful before you. You sifted it through your fingers and giggled at the feeling of it. “No wonder the boys like playing in it so much.” You snapped your mouth shut when the strange, slightly hoarse, sound of your own voice reached your ears. “Helloooo… Son a bitch I can talk… Oh my god, I can talk.” You moved to sit with one bent leg resting parallel the ground and the other angled pendicular to the first. You glanced up at the trees, feeling the warm wind dance around you in a way it never had before, and watched the leaves sway in time. Suddenly, the realisation of where you were struck you, and your eyes darted for the one thing you had always carried. The weapons chest.

 

Carefully getting to your feet in the same way you had seen John and the boys do so many times, you glanced behind you and were relieved to find that the chest still lay in the same spot. John had left you roughly thirty minutes ago and knowing how quickly he hunted, especially with Bobby at his side, you were beginning to worry. You knelt in front of the chest, opening it and pulling Dean’s favorite machete from its sheath. Listening for John, you slithered over to the edge of the bushes that concealed you from the view of the weathered old cottage. Boots sounded on the hard packed dirt path and you were soon face to face with fangs. “Oh, Jesus.”

 

“Another one.” The vamp snarled, closing in.

 

“Oh, no, no I’m not an actual hunter-- oh fuck!” You screeched, ducking away when the vamp charged you. You turned again to face him and swung the machete, with a silent prayer. You hit his shoulder and he jolted towards the side opposite your blade. His fangs grazed your neck and you shoved him off towards the ground, “Ow, you son of a bitch!” You quickly forced your machete to glide through his neck. His head fell to the ground with a small, sickening bounce, and you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, stretching your neck and reaching up to check for blood. When your hand was still clean after pulling away, you sighed, and a smirk found its way to your face. “I can do this huntin’ stuff.” You reached down and wiped a spot of dirt from your thigh and straightened your ragged cut shorts.

 

“Miss?” A gruff voice called and your eyes fixed on the figure of the familiar old hunter.

 

You saw John mutter something, but you couldn’t make out his words. You dropped the machete and made your way to the hunters, with open arms. You headed for Bobby first, feeling that he might be a little more welcoming than John. You threw your arms around him and he awkwardly closed you in his.

 

“Do I know you, Miss?”

 

“Bobby, It’s me… Baby. You’ve only helped fix me up a dozen times.”

 

Bobby stared down with wide eyes, “I ain’t drunk enough for this, so either she’s tellin’ the truth, or one of us is off their rocker.” He let go of you and you looked to John hoping he’d accept your new form, alas, John Winchester was not an easy man.

 

“She’s not a damn car, Bobby.” He stomped past you and your hopeful smile turned into a heated scowl. You followed him further into the clearing where he stopped dead in his tracks, glaring at the weapons chest, before turning to yell in your face. “What the hell did you do with my car!”

 

“Don’t you dare puff your damn chest out at me John Eric Winchester.” You sassed, catching him off guard. “I told your stubborn ass that I am your car. One second I’ve got four wheels and fast food wrappers littered all over inside me, and next thing I know I’m face down in the dirt!” He watched your chest heave up and down as you fumed, and his eyes locked on your shoulder. You scoffed, “You Winchester men, ya know Dean is just like you when it comes to the ladies.”

 

“I’m not staring at-- What’s on your shoulder?”

 

“You should know,” You smirked, “You were pissed at the boys for a week over it.” You pulled your shirt off your shoulder allowing him a clear view of the scars on your skin.

 

“My Boys… Those are their initials.”

 

“Yep, had this scar for years.” John shook his head, and bent down to drop his gun into the chest. Pulling out a flask of holy water, he threw it on you and you flinched out of shock. You blinked a couple times and sighed, “For the love of God, John I’m not a demon. Now what? Are you gonna cut me with silver and make me eat salt too?” You shifted your weight to one hip, and raised an eyebrow. “What the hell do I have to do to convince you?”

 

“You are not a damn car.” He growled sternly, somewhat turning you on, a feeling you hadn’t yet had the pleasure of experiencing.

 

“Fine.” You hissed, “ _You_ bought _me_ at Rainbow Motors, a used car lot in Lawrence, Kansas, for about two grand. Before that I was owned by some drunk that had a bunch of ex wives and spent my mileage driving around passing out bibles to make up for everything he screwed up in his life. Little Sammy, he shoved an army man in my ashtray and that sucker is still wedged in there. When Dean was a kiddo, he popped a few legos down in my heater vents while you were staying at Uncle Erv’s Green Valley Motel and you can still hear ‘em rattle.” He went to interrupt you and you held up a flat palm to silence him. “And speaking of sweet little Dean, who is a damn good kid by the way and you should go easier on him. April 20th, 1978… You and Mary had one hell of a romp in my poor backseat and nine months later, Hello Dean-o.” John stood and all he could manage was to stare blankly at you.

 

“Your Impala or not, she’s the only woman I ever seen shut you up, besides Ellen Harvelle.” Bobby commented, again repositioning his rifle.

 

“I’ve probably got devil’s trap you drew on me.” You shrugged, hoping to come off sweeter than you just had. You turned and a rough white devil’s trap was painted on your lower back. “It is still there, right?”

 

“Yeah,” John sighed, still amazed, and ran his hand over his scruff covered features. He held out his arms and you happily ran into them. He held you tight and you wiggled your head free to gaze up at him.

 

“I don’t wanna make this weird, but holy hell have I dreamed of this moment.” You reached around and grabbed his firm ass, giggling when he wasn’t phased by your actions. “Ooh, even better when it’s not on a seat.”

 

“I never knew you were… Real, I guess. I don’t exactly know what to call you.”

 

“Well, I guess my name is Baby, I’ve never really been called anything else… Unless you wanna call me Impala.”

 

“I think I’ll stick to Baby.” John winked, making that feeling spark back up.

 

“Balls.” Bobby grunted, rolling his eyes at the way John’s demeanor towards you instantly changed when he accepted the fact that you posed no threat. “Come on, ya idjits. The sun is setting and you still owe me a drink.”

 

“A whiskey sounds pretty good, I’ve always wanted to try one.”

 

**“That’s my girl.” John beamed, lacing his arm around your waist and leading you over to Bobby’s truck.**


End file.
